


The End Justifies The Means

by Broadway_trashdump



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Car problems, Enj is popular and a simp for loser Grantaire, Gay, High School AU, Hockey, It’s prouvaire y’all already know, M/M, Non-binary character, Popular, This is gonna be a self indulgent mess, enjoltaire - Freeform, high school party, idk y’all these tags never make sense, losers - Freeform, oh man, track
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broadway_trashdump/pseuds/Broadway_trashdump
Summary: Enjolras is the track star, prototypical popular kid.Grantaire is the outcast ‘weird’ kid.Enjolras can’t stop thinking of Grantaire.(Or uh, reverse ‘nerd is obsessed with the popular kid’ AU ig.)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 82





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a messy, self indulgent story ok sorry lmaoo

High school is a clique-cliche-stereotypical hell that Enjolras wish he didn't have to endure every god damned day. but, it was junior year-- soon it'll be senior year then he's out of Saint Michele. That's it, its not even REALLY two years. Whats worse about this year is probably that he moved here at the end of last year and really, doesn't have many friends, or any real connections here. 

Maybe today is the day though, when his car does not make it to school. The first day of junior year and of course his car breaks down, his stupid STUPID car. 

He could call Combeferre? maybe Jehan. They're usually at school pretty early. He could also just walk, its only a mile and he definitely is the captain of the track team for a reason--a feat onto itself that at tryouts at the end of last year, and practice all summer, coach Valjean was so impressed with him that he'd been promoted to captain--, but their first practice is today after school so he isn't trying to be exhausted from the stress of the first day, his run before school and now this run TO the school because of his stupid car.

It was his own integrity that got him this stupid car. His parents had money, no doubt. Both were family defense lawyers, and he had money saved from his inheritance when his father died, but Enjolras hated riding their coattails, so he didn't. He worked all summer at a local cafe-- the Musain. Just bused tables and collected a few tips, and saved up his money for a car. 

A stupid car. a stupid 2004 Honda Civic. They were the same age you know, Enj and this stupid FUCKING car. 

Enjolras groans, finally getting out of the drivers seat, popping his hood and kicking the tire for good measure as he lifted the hood the rest of the way. There is definte steam coming out of the engine, but from where and why he has no absolute idea. 

"God damn it... what even is this shit?!" he complains. a car hasn't driven by in twenty minutes, what the fuuuuuck. 

"Do you need some help?" 

Enjolras jumps-- and shrieks but he'll deny that until the day he dies-- and turns towards the voice and instantly his voice catches in his own throat. The boy standing behind him is beautiful. His hair is wildly curly, a dark halo of hair around his head. he's taller than Enjolras, and bulkier too. He's in a black hoodie, black ripped up jeans and doc marten boots. He’s beautiful. Enjolras cant stop staring. 

He realises the boy said something and Enjolras didn't answer. 

"Oh-- oh uh yeah. My car just died as I was driving and started, uh, smoking?" 

The boy laughs, and as cheesy as it is, Enjolras notes that it sounds like a song, so free and not worried about judgment. It was beautiful. That apparently is the only descriptor that he can think of right now. A beautiful boy. 

"Well-- thats not good. Do you mind if I take a peek? I might be able to help you out. I'm pretty good with cars." 

Instead of waiting for an answer, the boy just went to work, dropping his bookbag on the drivers seat, looking at the lights that Enj has been ignoring on his dashboard, looking in the engine and nodding to himself. 

"For someone who's 'PreTtY GoOd WiTh CaRs' you are just walking down a random street no one lives on?" Enj snarks, distracting himself from staring at the small of the boys back that has slipped out as he reaches into the engine. 

He hears him laugh again and emerge from the depths of the guts of his car, reaching into his backpack and retrieving a water bottle, which he pours into... something in the car. 

"For someone with a car you really let your car overheat and never put more water in your radiator, and then didn't know how to fix it. I think you're welcome is the words you're looking for." The boy says as he cranks the car and it roars to life. 

Enjolras stares in shock, that his car truly was just revived by a stranger on the side of the road. "You are a wizard, a guru, I am just a big idiot and you are Einstine. Thank you, so so much. Can I give you a ride to school for all your hard work? I don't even know your name! I'm Enjolras, Enj, whatever. sorry. thank you, again."

The boy laughs and wipes his hands on his pants and picks up his backpack. 

"I am a wizard, you are not an idiot, and my name is Grantaire, but you can just call me R, and finally, I’d love a ride. this walk sucks."

Enjolras climbs in his car, quickly throwing his gym bag and track shoes into the back, along with his backpack. Grantaire does the same and gets in as well.

"Not that I can judge, because I walk to school but uh, your car is pretty vintage, dude." He says with a laugh, hand instantly going to the cracked interior on the dashboard, which has been breaking down from the sun for the last 17 years.  
Enj watches R's hands feel the rough texture left of the dashboard, his hands look strong, splattered with left over dried paint, as well as some grease from his car. He's wearing a couple rings spread across his thumb and ring finger. Enjolras realised he was staring, before anyone else did --anyone elsE? enj there's only two of you in the car just fucking DRIVE. 

“Yeah, I saved up to buy it myself.” 

The rest of the ride was idle chatting, enjolras trying to learn as much as possible about him before they pulled into the school parking lot. 

“Thanks for the ride by the way.” Grantaire says as they climb out of the car heading through the rows of other students cars. 

Before Enjolras can answer, R is heading off in the direction of a girl with long black hair, and all black clothes, and an extremely pissed off expression. She’s gorgeous, her features smooth and serene but still full of anger directed towards R. 

Of course he has a girlfriend— why wouldn’t he? 

“E! Hey where have you been? You’re usually earlier than this.” 

Enjolras jumps at the sound of Courf’s voice. Someday people are going to stop sneaking up on him. 

“Oh, my car broke down again. Someone came and helped me though.” He replies, shrugging as he continues to stare at R chat with this random girl. 

“Who are you staring at like that? You look like a kicked puppy.” Courf says trying to follow Enjolras’ line of sight 

“Why are you staring at Grantaire?” Jehan says, now appearing behind Courf 

“Where are you all just appearing from today!?” 

“R? Why are you staring at him? Did he do something to you?” Courf says, instantly in defense mode. 

Enj looks down to him, a questioning look on his face. “No, what do you mean? He’s really sweet. He helped me fix my car this morning.” 

Courf and Jehan share a— a look enjolras really can’t identify— but a look none the less 

“Grantaire wouldn’t spare a cup of water if one of us was on fire.” Courf says, which earns a smack on his arm from Jehan. 

“What do you know about him? I doubt you’ve ever really taken the time to even talk to him.” Jehan shoots back, clutching his book a little tighter to his chest. 

Courf and Enj glance at each other then back to Jehan, waiting for an explanation for their outburst. 

Jehan just shrugs and turns to begin walking to class talking as they do so. 

“R has been my friend since we were kids. He went through some terrible shit and he’s trying to better himself now. He’s gotten healthy, plays hockey for the towns league. He’s damn good at it too. Maybe you should give him a chance, Courf.” 

Courf just shrugs, digging in his backpack and eventually pulling out a Rice Krispie treat.  
“I’m just saying. Even last year he was a pompous asshole who acted like he knows everything, and hates everything at the same time.—“ 

Enjolras stopped listening at this point, his mind drifted back to R in the passenger seat of his car. His hands feeling the dashboard, the way his curls whipped from beneath his beanie in the wind. The way he smiled. 

“Oh my god Enj you weren’t even listening.” Combferres voice breaks through, not even realizing that Ferre had joined the group at some point. 

“He’s in love.” 

This earned Courf a swift kick from enjolras 

“With who!?” Ferre looked between Courf and Jehan, expecting an answer 

“Grantaire!” 

Another swift kick from enjolras to courfs leg 

“If you keep kicking me I can’t race this Saturday! You know I’m a crucial team member, right!?” Courf squeaks as he rubs his shin. 

—————— 

The rest of the morning buzzed by because enjolras obviously paid no attention in class. It was the first day, he didn’t HAVE to pay attention today. 

As he switched classes he looked for R. Maybe he’d be in his AP government class, or English 3 honors class... who knows. He also has art after lunch, which he needs to get out of and put into a free period so he can go work out in the weight room. 

Atleast lunch he had with his friends. They all crowded at the table chatting about their first day while Enj looked for Grantaire around the lunchroom. 

“He eats lunch outside with his friends.” Jehan whispers nonchalantly while Courf rambles on to Ferre about god knows what. 

“Who?” Enj whispers back, which receives a glare from Jehan. 

“You know you’re allowed to like someone, Despite how Courf feels about him. Come on I’ll walk with you.” 

Before Enjolras can deny that he likes ANYONE and complain he isn’t even done with his peanut butter and jelly, Jehan is pulling him up and out into the soft breeze of the September day. 

———— 

“Hey Romeo, your Juliet is on his way over here with Jehan.” 

R lulls his head over from the laying position on the ground under a tree in the schools courtyard and lifts his sunglasses up, looking at Eponine like she’s crazy. 

She just punches him in the foot and points in the direction of Jehan marching over with Enjolras in tow behind him. 

In a different time, in a different place, R would’ve been over the moon in love with Enjolras. He was like a god, tall and built, beautiful blond ringlets framing his face, blue eyes that could challenge the ocean to follow his command. 

But Grantaire has sworn off love. enjolras is still a good friend to have though. 

But why did his heart start racing? 

“Hello Gran! Hi ‘Ponine! Do you mind if we join you?” Jehan is always too cheery, but maybe that’s why R loves him. 

Eponine moves her backpack off the blanket they’re sitting on and Grantaire sits up so there’s enough room for all four of them. 

Jehan sits first, instantly chatting with eponine about the new blue color at the tips of her hair. 

Enjolras kicks a piece of mulch with the toe of his shoe, pulls on the thread of his sleeve. 

“Are you going to sit down or just keep fidgeting?” Jehan says from where he’s braiding Eponine’s hair. 

Enj sits on command and then begins to fidget with the rubber sole of his vans. They’re old and the rubber has begun to crack, so that’s fun. 

Jehan looks between Enj and R, then back at Eponine, who nods understandingly. 

“R, didn’t you have a meeting yesterday with Coach Javert? What was that about?” 

Grantaire bolts up, excite spreading across his body— from his smile to his energy. Enj just stares on, amazed that he continues to be more beautiful every time he sees him. 

“They promoted me to team captain! You are looking at the captain of the Saint Michele IceCaps.” 

The group claps for him, as Jehan interjects— 

“Enj is the captain of the track team as well. He got promoted over the summer.” 

Ep and R go silent, sharing a look between each other. 

“What?” Enj asks looking at the duo. 

“What are you doing hanging with us if you’re on the track team? You guys.. you’re more popular than the entire football team put together..” Ep says, a hand protectively on Grantaires knee, who is silent steadfast. 

“That doesn’t matter to me? You guys are nice. I’d rather talk to you than half of the track team. I promise we’re not all bad.” Enj adds with a nervous laugh. 

Grantaire seemed to warm back up to the conversation 

The two talked for the entire lunch period. Grantaire explained things about hockey, Enjolras explained things about track, by the end of lunch they scootched close enough that their knees were touching. It made Enjolras blush, but he’s pretty sure Grantaire didn’t notice, or feel the same. 

Little does he know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art, track, texting

After lunch, Enjolras could not stop thinking of R. R’s eyes, R’s hands, R getting excited as he talks about hockey and all his ideas for the team and how to better them. Enjolras can’t say he really paid attention, and he felt bad— but R’s energy is unmatched and how happy he makes him or the butterflies he gets when R rests a hand on Enj’s knee to drive a point home. 

The day continued on as normal except Enjolras had to physically restrain himself from doodling Grantaire’s name in the margins of his introduction essay. 

Or physically keep himself from day dreaming all day and imagining holding R’s hand, or holding R in general, or going on dates with R. Really sappy dates, like one-milkshake-with-two-straws-across-the-table sappy. 

Enjolras now sits in his final period of the day, art. Specifically, art 1. It’s a filler class for upperclassmen missing an extracurricular credit, and he just waits for the teacher to speak up. Enjolras does realize of course, three girls are giggling around him and talking to him, it comes with being popular. You could have anyone you want. Literally. People throw themselves at Enjolras’ feet. 

If they sit with you at lunch, they’re popular by proxy. You talk to them, they’re popular by proxy. If they can find a way to associate with you to the third degree, they’re popular. 

Popularity isn’t everything. 

And Enjolras isn’t listening to what any of the girls are saying. That’s when he walks in. 

Grantaire walks in and walks straight up to the teachers desk, who brightens up to see him, as does Enjolras. God, he wishes the girls weren’t sitting at his table. He’d surely save a spot for Grantaire if he knew he was in this class. The bell finally rings, and the girls pipe down, their steady stream of soprano voices finally silenced. 

the teacher gets up from his desk and heads to the front board, smiling as Grantaire trails behind him. 

“Good afternoon my friends. I am Dr. Lafayette, and I will be your art teacher for the year. This, is my student teacher, Grantaire from my senior design class.” 

Enjolras looks back to Grantaire who sheepishly waves to the class full of students. God damn it... sporty and an artist? Enjolras can’t keep up. Cant compete. Everything Grantaire does amazes him. 

After about 5 minutes of daydreaming, Enjolras realizes not only was he staring at R, but R was staring at him. As was Dr. Lafayette, and as he horrifyingly notices, the whole class is staring at him. 

This must be a bad dream. It must. 

Dr. Lafayette clears his throat. “Let me reiterate, we’re introducing ourselves son, if you please.” 

Enjolras stands up, pushing his golden curls behind his ear. He could feel the eyes on him. The three girls who sat next to him, R’s, everyone watching him. He has to be poised, has to be perfect. No mistakes everything perfect. 

“Hi! Most of you know me... not to sound pretentious.. Enjolras, call me Enj. Uh, never did art, here for fun. Yeah. Okay.” He finishes, sitting down awkwardly. The three girls who obsessed over his every word clap as he sits, smiling back and forth between him and each other. He catches a small smile dancing on Rs lips as they continue onto others in the room, R always smiles back to him. 

What feels like one hundred introductions later, Dr. Lafayette assigns them their first project which is LAME because it’s literally the first day of school, who assigns a project on the first day of school? 

It’s simple enough, Dr. Lafayette wants the students to draw what makes them, well, them. A self reflection piece of all of their favorite things, happy moments, sad moments, what makes them unique to the human experience. It’s easy enough. 

But Enjolras can’t draw for shit. So instead, he’s taken to watching Grantaire circle the room, offering help to whoever is stuck on how to draw something, or what to draw. Enjolras hopes silently that Grantaire will come help him, will see him struggling and come talk to him. 

‘God, this is so... embarrassing’ Enjolras mutters to himself. 

_You’re literally pining so hard for a guy who does NOT think of you that way! You don’t even know him! Just because he helped you out this morning— and since this morning you’ve just been so fucking annoying! Bothering him at lunch, and now trying to get his attention solely to stroke your ego! Who have you bec-_

“Hey! I didn’t take you as the artistic type.” Grantaire’s voice breaks Enjolras out of his chain of thoughts. His head snaps up and Grantaire is sitting on the stool next to him that one of the fan girls abandoned. 

Enjolras can’t help but stare, just for a moment. It’s an unconventional beauty, Enj knows that, but the way Grantaire’s brown eyes are so warm and inviting— they’re dark, brown like early morning coffee— sitting at the table with someone you love and cups of coffee. He’s a good head taller than Enjolras, bags under his eyes and buff. Hockey does him good. 

Enjolras realizes he never really answered the question 

“Oh! Uh I just had an open block, and this is what they put me in. I can’t really— y’know, draw” He laughs awkwardly turning back to his paper and pencil, still unsure what it is he wants to attempt. 

“Do you need help? Art isn’t all about drawing, you could do like—“ 

And instantly Grantaire is off on a tangent listing all the possible things Enjolras could do that didn’t involve drawing or painting. 

Enjolras just takes the time to watch him, and feel his heart swell for the second time today at how passionate Grantaire is about the things he loves. 

Enjolras can imagine him at one of his track meets, cheering him on, and after Enjolras comes in first— _probably after hurdles. That’s my favorite_ , Enj thinks to himself— Grantaire will be waiting on the sidelines to cheer for him, kiss him passionately and then they’ll go home together hand in hand. There’s only a few problems with his dream, 

One, Grantaire isn’t gay, and does not think of Enjolras like that— AT ALL.   
Two, even if he WAS gay, there is no reason for Grantaire to want to be with him.   
And three, which Enjolras hates the most— he isn’t technically _out_ which is such a fucked up concept, why does he have to come out? Straight people don’t come out. He probably doesn’t HAVE to come out, he could just show up with a guy somewhere and they’d get the picture but— coming out is such an outdated ideal and he hates it. 

It’s not even that he’s ashamed, it’s just a small town and he only knows three other queer people, and he knows how much shit Jehan gets for being non-binary and.. 

And he’s just scared. 

“So.. did you like any of those ideas or were you zoned out the whole time?” 

His head snaps up to meet Grantaire’s eyes and he just nods quickly 

“Oh yeah! Yeah I liked the magazine clipping idea.” 

Grantaire smirks “ah, so you were listening. Good, young Padawan.” 

“A what? What is that?” 

Grantaire’s jaw drops, eyes wide in shock

“Have you never seen star wars!?” 

“Uh, no.” 

Grantaire is instantly up and bolts to his desk and then comes back with his phone. 

“Give me your number right now because you have to come to a movie night at my house— and we’re watching in cinematic release order I don’t care what Jehan says.” 

—————— 

And Enjolras rode that high all day. Grantaire asked for HIS number. He actually wants to talk to Enjolras besides in school. A whole movie night! Oh man... 

Okay, so maybe Enjolras should have been paying attention in track practice, he is the captain now and should be held higher than the other students- 

But he runs right into the hurdle instead of jumping it, knocking him to the ground and the wind out of his lungs. 

“Enjolras what’s gotten into you?!” Coach Valjean calls from the sidelines

“He’s in love Valjean! He’s smitten!” Courf calls from the sidelines where he’s stretching with Jehan, which again earns him a smack from Jehan. 

Enjolras can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, face turning red and it is clearly not from the run. 

“Okay kids, let’s not pick on the boy! Enjolras, congrats for thinking of something other than track or schoolwork, but damn it son don’t miss the hurdle! Run it back!” 

Enj just nods and gets up, jogging back to the starting point, trying to shake his head of any thoughts of Grantaire or those brown eyes. 

Later, as he’s stretching with Combeferre, they’re chatting idly before the next trial run 

“You should invite Grantaire to Courf’s party.” 

“W-what? Why would I do that?” 

Ferre just rolls his eyes. “Perhaps because you’ve been like a lost puppy or a school girl with a crush all day?” 

It was Enj’s turn to roll his eyes 

“Courf doesn’t like Grantaire so, no.” 

“It’s not that he doesn’t like him, he just doesn’t want you to get hurt. He’s like you’re older brother- protective.” 

“He’s only a few months older than me!?” 

“You know what I mean, Enjolras. You’re just— you know— naive when it comes to dating.” 

Enjolras scoffs at this, yes maybe he has never been in a seriously relationship but this isn’t anything LIKE that. This is just a big stupid crush. 

“Fine I’ll invite him to the party.” 

—————— 

Practice has been over for about an hour now, but Enjolras remained on the track. He long abandoned his hair being braided back, now just in a messy top bun, out of his face. There was something therapeutic about running laps, it was just him, his sneakers hitting the pavement and the sun beginning to turn the sky orange and pink as it set.

He can’t believe how stupid he’s been all day, pining over Grantaire, not paying attention in any class, fucking up on hurdles, what was that? 

It’s just a crush, in a few days it will be just a distant memory. 

“Enjolras!” He hears his name being called from the sideline as he makes the last bend of the track. 

Valjean is waiting at the gate of the track as Enjolras slows down 

“I have to leave early today, so if you want to get a shower in you’ve gotta head in now. Or atleast get your things out of the locker room.” 

Enjolras nods and follows him up to the locker rooms. 

“Coach.” 

Valjean looks up from his keys as he’s trying to find the one that will open the boys locker room 

“I— thanks. Thanks for letting me stay late. I have something I’m trying to work through, and the track always helps.” 

Valjean smiles fondly and claps a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder 

“You’re welcome son, if you ever need to talk you know where my office is. Please don’t hesitate to come see me.” 

Enjolras collects his things, deciding to just shower at him. He says goodbye to Valjean, and heads to his car. 

He collapses into the drivers seat, not even realizing how tired he was until he got to sit down. He just sighs and cranks the key, praying that his car starts, and is amazed when it does. He decides to check his phone before driving off, 

**Unknown Number:** I hope your car started btw 

**Unknown Number:** Kidding, ofc it started bc I am a master mechanic 

**Unknown Number:** It’s Gran btw 

**Unknown Number:** Oh god you blocked me fresh out of the gate bc of the lame joke didnt u? 

**Unknown Number:** Oh right, track. 

**Unknown Number:** I only know that because I saw you running— not to be a stalker but you know— the sidewalk is right by the track field okay and I walk home okay bye sorry. 

Enjolras can’t help but laugh, saving Grantaire’s number. 

He feels like he could run another mile if he had to, because _Grantaire texted him. Like actually texted him._   
Okay. Okay, be cool. Don’t be weird. 

**Enjolras:** Haha yes I was in fact at track practice. And my car did start, thanks to some random guy I met this morning— 

**Grantaire:** Oh wow the guy who helped you is probably an amazingly cool dude with a rockin’ bod and ass to match. 

Enjolras’ face is instantly burning again, thinking about Gran’s ass which he told himself he wasn’t going to do— even though it’s a nice ass, it must be all muscle from hockey but god damn if Enjolras allowed himself to think of Grantaire’s ass he would never be able to float back down to earth. 

**Enjolras:** Yeah yeah yeah, so do you want to come to the track party on Friday?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Texting, family, Enjolras really needs to be honest with himself.

Grantaire just stared at his phone.

 **Enjolras:** Yeah yeah yeah, so do you want to come to the track party on Friday?

Grantaire instantly clicked out of the messages and clicked Eponine’s contact on his phone, waiting for her to answer the FaceTime call.

“I can smell you through the phone, you literally always look disgusting after hockey practice.” Eponine chides as her face pops up on the screen. Grantaire looks down at himself in the small FaceTime window and shrugs. He’s sweaty, that’s about the only difference. He pushes his mop of curls that were drenched in sweat out of his face.

“I didn’t call to be bullied, Ponine.”

“Well what are you calling me at 8pm for?”

Grantaire sighs and scratches his head, words instantly rushing out of his mouth “so I got Enjolras number today in art and we were texting and he just asked if I wanted to go to the track party Friday night like— what?”

Eponine is just smiling on the other end of the phone. “You got us invited to a fucking TRACK PARTY!?”

Grantaire groans and throws himself into his desk chair in his room. “I haven’t answered yet. He said ‘Yeah yeah yeah, so do you want to come to the track party on Friday?’ like who the fuck even asks that way?”

Eponine rolls her eyes “Grantaire you are so fucking dense it isn’t even funny.”

Grantaire looks at her skeptically “are you coming or not?”

“He didn’t invite me, he invited you.”

“Hang on”

Grantaire clicked off of the FaceTime call, clicking on Enjolras’ message thread.

 **Grantaire:** depends. Can Ponine come?

————

Enjolras sighs, clicking back to his FaceTime with Combeferre.

“How well do you know Grantaire?” Enjolras asks, trying to act nonchalant.

“I’d say pretty well, we’re neighbors. We were pretty good friends as kids.” Combeferre says as he types away on his computer.

“Why are you not friends anymore?”

Ferre stops to consider, hands stalling on the keyboard.

“I dunno, I think just growing apart. It’s natural. There’s no malice, we just drifted apart.”

Enjolras nods, imagining young Ferre and young Grantaire climbing trees, playing video games, being general asshole kids.

“Why?”

Enjolras glances up to the camera, where he meets Ferre’s waiting eyes. He just shrugs

“Just curious. Courf doesn’t seem to like him, I dunno. Do Uh—“ he clears his throat “do you know how long he and Ep have been dating?”

After a moment of silence, Ferre chuckles and continues typing on his laptop.

“Why?”

Enjolras groans and rolls over on his bed. “Is that all you say? Why why why why. Never an answer only a question.”

Ferre laughs softly. “Ep and Gran aren’t dating. Now why did you want to know?”

“Well I invited him to the track party and I didn’t want her to not get an invite if she’s his girlfriend.”

Ferre glances into the camera, a skeptical look. “I’d invite her anyway, They’re hardly ever separated.”

Enjolras feels his heart beat a little bit faster. Is it hope? Is it a heart attack? He doesn’t know.

 **Enjolras:** Yeah of course! The more the merrier!

————

“Okay you’re in, wear your best party clothes Friday. Pick me up?” Grantaire says clicking back to the video chat

“Are you ever going to get your own car? Or even borrow Marcelines?”

Grantaire thought to his oldest sister, who he lives with. Marceline was a sweetheart, truly, practically saving him from their shitty parents, and the foster system all in one fell swoop. He could drive her car, but she already does so much for him. He borrows so much from her. This room, her food, her time, he hates being such a burden on her.

“I already ask too much of Marceline. Can you get me or not?”

Eponine flashes a sneaky smile “oooorrrrrr you can ask Enjolras to come pick you up!”

“The party is at—“

“The track parties are always at Courferyac’s house and Enjolras literally has to pass your neighborhood to get to Courfs house.”

Grantaire shrugs, when she’s right, she’s right.

 **Grantaire:** okay last annoying question— can I get a ride?

 **Enjolras:** For Friday? Or tomorrow? Because I can pick you up tomorrow too if you want.

 **Grantaire:** I mean hey, if you want to pick me up tomorrow I’d appreciate it. It’s supposed to rain all day.  
————

The next morning Grantaire simply picked at his bowl of Cheerios as his niece and nephew bounded down the stairs arguing, much like the usual Tuesday morning.

“Philip give it BACK!” Madeline yelled as she stormed down the steps, Philip only a few steps in front of her as he giggles uncontrollably.

“Uncle R make him give me my hair bruuuuuuuuush!” Madeline whines, leaning on his side with big puppy eyes. Gran just chuckles and turns to where Philip is now sitting on the other side of him at the breakfast bar.

“Lip, do you have her hairbrush?” Grantaire asks cocking an eyebrow.

Philip sighs dramatically as he leans against his other side "Well, maaaaybe if she didn't take so long in the bathroom in the morning I wouldn't have taken it to make sure I had time to shower today!" 

Before Grantaire can answer, the doorbell rings, and both twins get up, running to the door, fighting over who can answer it. He just laughs and turns back to his cheerios. 

Instantly he hears the twins talking someone's ear off about their morning issues, how Madeline is hairbrush-less and Philip thinks he is justified in taking the hairbrush because they need equal time in the bathroom and she has a mirror in her room. 

_oh no_

Before Grantaire can deposit his bowl into the sink and save Enjolras from the whirlwind that is his niece and nephew, they barge into the kitchen pulling him along, looking frazzled and confused as he locks eyes with Grantaire and instantly melts into a smile. 

"Oh! hello, there you are." He says, a kind of dopey smile on his face that makes Grantaire chuckle. 

"Hey, sorry, I forgot you were coming actually, and these two are like dogs, jumping at the first sign of an intruder at the door." He says as he pats both Philip and Madelines' heads. 

a chorus of 'Hey!'s and 'Not nice!'s come from the kids, as he pushes them softly out of the kitchen, towards the living room. 

"Are you ready?" Grantaire says as he is rushing to collect his things, shoving them in his backpack. 

"oh, you don't have to rush, we have time before we need to leave," Enjolras says as he looks at the pictures stuck to the fridge. One strikes him specifically. Its Grantaire, maybe two or three years ago, smaller, and gangly as he sits on a big pumpkin holding one of the children, and a lady, not much older than him, holding the other. Enjolras smiles at the picture, it seems like such a good memory. Who is the woman? that can't be his mother. She doesn't look much older than Grantaire, if Enjolras had to guess, she was only maybe 6 or 7 years older. 

"Oh trust me, we have to rush--" 

Madeline pops her head in the kitchen "You know mama is going to be mad if you leave with a stranger without telling her."

Grantaire sighs and turns to his niece. "Well, Madeline, she isn't going to know if you don't tattle on me." 

Madeline stops to consider for a minute, as Philip pops his head back in the kitchen next. 

"Philip, should we lie to mama?" Madeline asks.   
"What's in it for us?" Philip asks, a thoughtful finger tapping his chin. 

Grantaire groans and grabs Enjolras' hand, pulling him towards the door. Enjolras doesn't mind, he is just absently thinking of his hand in Grantaires, the warmth, the safety.

"Mama! Grantaire is sneaking out of the house with a boy!" Madeline practically screams as she runs up the stairs. Grantaire throws his head back and sighs, letting go of the doorknob as Enjolras hears footsteps coming down the steps now. 

Grantaire just turns to Enjolras "I am sorry in advanced because, Jesus Christ, Here we go." 

Grantaire trudges back in the kitchen, Enjolras following as he realizes they're still holding hands. once they reach the kitchen Grantaire drops his hand and sits at the breakfast bar, waiting. Madeline sits next to him, which he throws a dirty look at her. 

"You know you're not supposed to sneak around mama. Not since last time," she says, eating a blueberry waffle from the toaster. Enjolras just sits at the kitchen table quietly, pulling out a book to read. 

A woman makes her way down the stairs, she's dressed in a grey blazer and a pencil skirt, her hair that matches Grantaires in pattern and color is pulled back into a low ponytail where the curls are popping out in all directions. She's beautiful in every sense of the word, she could be a model, if Enjolras' opinion on such topics mattered. She had a fierce look in her eyes as she looked Enjolras up and down. He just gulped and turned back to his book 

"Marceline don't start so early in the morning." Grantaire sighs as he rolls his eyes. 

"Grantaire don't sneak out so early in the morning." She shoots back, turning to face Enjolras "and who are you?" 

Enj just closes his book and musters up his strongest smile "Hi, I'm Enjolras." 

She considers him for a moment, then turns back to Grantaire, listing off a rapid-fire set of questions including 'where did you meet him, how, why is he here, and why were you sneaking out?' 

Grantaire shrugs and answers them all with ease-- "and I wasn't sneaking out per se but, I just didn't want to bother you I know you have a big account meeting today and was simply going to make your day easier." He said with a suspiciously fake smile. 

For the first time, Marceline cracks a genuine smile, and she seems to change into this warm, bubbly person, instead of the cold, calculated one who was just interrogating Grantaire. It almost gives Enjolras whiplash as he watches. 

"You're so stupid, Aire, You know that?" she says with a laugh. She turns to Enjolras, serious again "And you, you just sneak into someone's home, without introducing yourself?" 

Enjolras just looks at her, then at Grantaire, then to the twins who are adamantly shaking their heads no, and hands clasped in pleading poses.

"Well, I didn't technically sneak in. The children let me in." Instantly Grantaire is laughing, a strong belly laugh that makes Enjolras smile like an idiot as the children groan and throw themselves dramatically against the counter. 

Marceline turns to the children, "You absolutely threw Uncle R under the bus when you two were wrong in the first place?!" 

"But MOOOOOOOOOM--" 

"no buts! get your bags and get your butts to the car-- Shit." Marceline swears as she glances at her wrist, her watch ticking away. "I'm running late. Gran, if I throw you in an uber with them will you make sure they get to school?" 

Enjolras clears his throat, and both Grantaire and Marceline look at him 

"I uh, I have a car. I can drop them off at school. With Grantaire, of course." 

"No, Enj you don't have to do that, I'd feel bad they go to school--" Marceline elbows Grantaire so he'll stop talking. 

"Here is 10$, I can't thank you enough. Grantaire, Hockey practice than straight home tonight, it's Taco Night." Marceline rushes out as she throws a 10$ bill at Enjolras and runs out the door. 

\-------------------

Enjolras, for the second time this week, is rearranging the garbage of his car for Grantaire by proxy. He pushes his gym bag to the ground, and his running sneakers as well, instructing Philip and Madeline to just step on them when they get in. 

Grantaire climbs into the passenger seat as Enjolras starts the car and pulls out of the driveway. 

"I'm really sorry about this, I tried to get us out of there fast but _SOMEONE_ is a snitch," Grantaire says as he throws a backward glance at his niece. She just shrugs and mumbles something about the last time he snuck out, and Grantaire sighs. 

"It's okay, we pass the elementary school anyway," Enjolras says with a smile. 

"Your car smells funny," Philip says to break the silence minutes later 

Enjolras can't hide the offense on his face, which makes Madeline and Philip laugh anyway. He's pretty sure he even heard Grantaire chuckle. 

"Smells funny how?!" 

through laughs, Philip answers "Like a gym! a dirty old gym sock!" which sends Madeline and himself into deeper laughs. 

"I'm the captain of the track team! It's not my fault my stuff smells like gym socks!" he pleads as he pulls into the school drop off line. 

Madeline and Philip just continue to laugh as they get out, aptly naming him "Captian Gym Sock", and even throwing back two 'Thank you Mr. Gym Sock!' as he drives off.

After a few minutes of silence, Grantaire clears his throat and speaks for the first time the whole ride. "I'm sorry about that. They can all be-- a lot? and yeah. Sorry." His voice is different, Enjolras notes. It's softer and has a hint of anxiety in it. Enjolras pulls a confused face and turns to Grantaire as they wait at a red light. 

"Hey, hey what's wrong? I really don't mind! My family is very meticulous and boring, so it was a nice change to see. I'm an only child so, It was nice." 

Grantaire just scoffs softly, adding a quiet yeah. 

After a few moments of silence, Enjolras just turned the radio on, a pop song playing through the speakers. He doesn’t want to bother Grantaire anymore about it, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. He sees Gran begin to bop his head, the stress melting off his shoulders. 

“I’m not upset about driving them to school. They’re sweet kids, maybe misguided but, sweet. Even your sister, as scary as she was she was also nice underneath all that.” 

Grantaire just smiles and nods. “Shes over protective. It’s a long story that maybe someday I can explain.” Grantaire just collects his bookbag as Enjolras pulls into the parking spot in the student lot, instantly climbing out and throwing back “but not today!” As he meets with Eponine in the front of the row. 

Enjolras sits in the drivers seat, watching Grantaire disappear into the crowd of students and he can’t believe how stupid he’s been, to fall in love so quickly. 

Enjolras can now openly admit to himself that he is absolutely, irrevocably, smitten with Grantaire. It’s literally been two days of knowing him, and he finds himself thinking of Grantaire’s curls as they poke out of his knit beanie, or his warm honey brown eyes that crinkle in the corners when he laughs, or his tall, muscular frame, all solid muscle from Hockey, or even better, his thick thighs pressed in tight ripped jeans.

Maybe even his combat boots. Something about all of these things together entranced Enjolras. 

Oh god, this is so stupid. There is NO reason for Grantaire to like him back. 

Enjolras knows he isn’t ugly. He thinks beauty standards are so aggressively skewed and people are favorable to one type of look for people and it isn’t fair, but he absolutely knows he has a boring personality. Track, reading, he isn’t one to go out or party. Why would Grantaire like him? He’s surprised that he even has managed to stay FRIENDS with him, Enjolras isn’t great at keeping friends either. 

Courf, Ferre and Jehan are all in track with him. Marius was friends with Courf first, and weaseled his way in to the group with his girlfriend Cosette, who the group already knew due to coach Valjean being her father. 

God, this is so stupid. high school is stupid, crushes are stupid, and all this worrying made Enjolras stomach hurt, and something deep in the back of his head told him he really just needs to go home and burrito himself back into bed. 

Enjolras is knocked out of his train of thoughts by the knock on his window. He looks up and meets Jehan standing there. Their ginger hair tussling in the wind, as they smile. Enjolras smiles back softly and cranks the window down. 

“Whatcha doin?” Jehan asks as they lean against the door of Enjolras car. 

Enjolras just shrugs, carving his key against the leather of the steering wheel 

“Going to school, thinking about missing track practice today.” 

Jehan clutches their chest, feigning shock as they collapse against his car 

“Our fearless leader? The captain of the state awarded Saint Michele track team? Missing practice? I don’t believe it.” 

Enjolras forces a laugh softly, leaning forward to rest on the steering wheel, something in his heart just made him feel like he couldn’t do this. Any of this. 

Jehan must’ve seen it too, just the shadow of doubt flit across the boys face. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Jehan says, actual concern crossing their face. Enjolras just shrugs and collects his backpack as he climbs out of the car. 

“I don’t know. I feel weird today, my stomach hurts and I just feel, I don’t know. I feel wrong, like I shouldn’t be here. My head is all cloudy.” Enjolras says, trying to really think about what’s wrong. He doesn’t know. He just shrugs again. 

Jehan sighs and slings an arm around Enjolras’ shoulder as they walk into the building. “Anxiety again? What’s going on Enj? You usually have a good control on that.” 

Enjolras wishes he could tell Jehan, but he doesn’t even know himself. 

————— 

Last period, Art 1, is the only thing that Enjolras has to look forward to today, because it’s the only class he has with Gran. 

They’re continuing to work on their self portraits, and Enjolras can’t draw. He can’t, he can do a lot, and he can usually fake it til he makes it, but not when it comes to art. He’s staring down the piece of drawing paper, pencil in hand, and— 

Nothing. 

He just sighs and looks around the room, curious what the other students are doing, curious where Grantaire is. He finds him pretty easily, he’s leaned over the table helping one of those giggly girls with the shading on her self portrait. Enjolras can’t help the jealous flare in his chest as he keeps watching. 

“Ahem, son?” Mr. Lafayette clears his throat, standing in front of the table Enjolras occupies. 

“Yes sir?” 

Lafayette looks back to where Grantaire is helping another student now, then back to Enjolras. 

“See me after class.” 

Enjolras can feel his face heating up, as he stares into the paper and Lafayette walks away. 

Soon the bell rings and the room slowly pours empty, R, Enj, a few other students and Dr. Lafayette remain. R walks up to Enjolras, bright smile evident. 

“Sorry I didn’t get to see what you worked on today, how goes it?” R says, hiking his backpack up on his shoulder. 

“Grantaire, leave us please. I have to talk to Enjolras in private.” 

Grantaire just raises his eyebrows, glancing back at Lafayette and nodding as he heads out. 

——————

Enjolras awkwardly runs his finger down the grain of Dr. Lafayette’s desk, waiting for the last students to set their projects to dry and shuffle out. Finally, the teacher sits opposite Enjolras at his desk. 

“Enjolras, you haven’t even begun your self portrait, and today was our first check in. If I give you the zero, it will tank your grade and you can be removed as track captain.” 

Short and to the point. Enjolras could appreciate that, he guesses. 

“I’m sorry sir, I just have a lot on my mind.” 

Dr. Lafayette nods, chuckling. “Oh I’ve noticed. A lot being my assistant student..” 

Enjolras feels his face heat up quickly, a blush tinting his cheeks and nose. 

“No! No, I was— I was looking at Marybeth today. He just happened to be helping Marybeth.” 

_Why are you lying? Are you really that ashamed? You have nothing to be ashamed of! How you just falter against everything you stand for is disgusting, Enjolras._

Lafayette just sighs and crosses his legs softly. Enjolras really takes the time to look at him now, an older man, his dark skin has begun to wrinkle, and grey hairs now twist through his kinky black hair. He looks dignified, serious. He’s dressed in a blue button down, navy blue blazer and pants to match, impeccably dressed. 

“Enjolras, I’m not going to force you to say anything, or force you to talk to me, so all I’ll say is this; this classroom is a space safe from the rest of the schools opinions and rankings and other social rules of the like. You are allowed to be attracted to whomever you’d like.” 

Enjolras starts rubbing his palms against his jeans, anxiety wracking his brain. This is so stupid, it is it is it is. You’re being such a hypocrite! 

Enjolras just clears his throat, and stands 

“Thank you. I have to get to practice.” 

And turns to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please comment! I am a comment fiend thank you. 
> 
> Interact w me on tumble @yosoytriste ! 
> 
> Also I HC Jehan as a masc enby ok masc enbies need rep too ily my he/theys and they/thems!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> searching, parents suck, freak out, and babie

Enjolras has been digging through the trunk of his car for 15 minutes now, only able to produce one track sneaker, the other seemingly disappeared. As if on queue his phone begins to ring in the front seat. 

He smiles when he sees it’s Grantaire. 

“Heeeey so— uh. Are you missing something?” 

Enjolras laughs, a smile spreading across his face “I actually am, did you take my left track shoe?” 

Grantaire is struggling on the other end, clearly multi-tasking as he talks. 

“Well, I didn’t. Don’t get mad at him he’s a weird kid— Philip took your shoe. Marceline called me, that the school called her and confiscated the shoe that he was showing all his classmates at recess.” 

Enjolras can’t help but crack up, anyone else he probably would’ve been mad at for making him miss practice so early in the year but, it’s not anyone else. It’s Grantaire. So he’ll just laugh, and head home for his other pair. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Maybe uh— I could pick you up tomorrow too and get my shoe back?” 

He can hear the smile in Grantaire’s voice, while he still struggles with something. 

“Jesus R, what are you wrestling? A bear?” 

He laughs again “have you ever put on hockey pads? I’m drowning and the coaches assistant is helping someone else right now so I’m flying solo!” 

“Well how much padding do you really need? It’s just hockey.” 

“Oh now we need to get you padded up, hey! Hey Gervais, my friend just asked how much padding do we really need?” 

Another voice came over the receiver, deeper and strong; “Listen, if it were up to me, we’d all have an additional layer, and your friend Grantaire here would have a third layer just for good measure.” 

Enjolras smiles at the term “your friend” and “my friend”. They’re friends. Enjolras has a half way decent group of friends. 

Wow. 

Enjolras’ brain reminds him he’s still on the phone, so he focuses in on the conversation. 

“Anyway, yeah uh, if you want? Don’t think you have to give me a ride. I can totally go back to walking.” 

“I like not being alone.” 

After a few beats of silence, quiet consideration “okay. See you at 7?” 

A few moments after hanging up, his phone buzzes twice, both are pictures from Grantaire. The first his him standing in a locker room, navy blue lockers surrounding him, and a pile of pads on the ground. He of course is making a funny face, because if Enjolras knows anything, it’s that Grantaire is silly. 

The second picture is Grantaire in all of his pads, and with his skates on, he’s holding his helmet and is actually smiling, which makes Enjolras smile. He also notices how bulky the pads are, from his chest to his legs, there’s some sort of padding covering Grantaire. He’s also Atleast 4 inches taller, as Enjolras notices how big the skate blades are. He should probably learn more about hockey. 

He also saves the picture of Grantaire in his uniform for no good reason other than he can.  
——————  
Enjolras shot a text to coach Valjean about how he left his track shoes at home, and will be a few minutes late before pulling out of the school lot, and after a few minutes into his own driveway. 

Enjolras gets the feeling he should’ve just stayed at school, ran with one shoe, or even no shoes. 

He unlocks the door to find his mother sitting at the kitchen table working away on her laptop, only momentarily glancing up to see him before she returns to typing. 

“Why are you missing practice?” 

His mother is a cold, calculated woman. Shes had his life planned out since conception, all honors classes, sports, music lessons, language lessons, going to Harvard or Yale to be a lawyer. 

Hell, she’s even picked out the ideal wife for him, someone who is genetically comparable to him, who will birth the strongest children, all of which are things Enjolras prefers not to think of; wives, children, or the act of making children. 

“I forgot my track shoes at home.” 

Without even looking up, his mother replies “no, because I made sure to put them in your car before you snuck out unreasonably early. Where did you go?” 

He sighs. 

“I picked up a friend for school.” 

“And the shoes?” 

He stops to consider, what are his options here? To lie? That seems easiest. 

“I could only find one of them, I might’ve knocked the other out of the car and not realized. I have to grab my old pair and go or I’m going to miss practice.” 

She just waves a dismissive hand, signaling him to go. And that’s it. That’s the extent of speaking to his mother. 

He misses his father. Somehow the polar opposite of his mother, his father was an artist, the thinks. He can’t remember much, he passed away so long ago, Enjolras being only 6. He remembers his parents being happy though, some time ago, a distant memory played back on film roll in his heads, picked up from the cutting room floor, all the highlights. Like going to the Washington monument, propped up on his dads shoulders, his fathers bouncy blonde hair much the same as his, blowing in his face in the wind. 

Does he even like track anymore? It used to be his freedom, but more recently it feels like another thing he has no control of. 

He also has no control of his thoughts it feels. He looks at himself in the mirror and he feels like he’s looking at a stranger, someone he doesn’t know. Everything is wrong. 

He’s too tall, he’s too masculine, he doesn’t feel like what he sees and it makes his stomach churn. 

He wishes he could be like Jehan. Jehan is always so free, to wear women’s clothes, men’s clothes, any clothes between. Makeup, or no makeup, they do whatever they want, and Enjolras is jealous. 

He wishes he could be like Jehan. 

Enjolras realizes somehow, he made it back to practice, is in his running shorts and track jersey, stretching as Courf calls his name. 

“Sorry what?” He says, snapping back to the conversation. 

“I said are you excited for the party on Friday?” Courf said, concern crossing his face. 

“Oh, of course! Yeah, Gran is gonna come. We need new people in this group.” Enjolras replies, almost robotically. What is wrong with him? Just snap out of it! 

Courf just nods as he stretches his arms. “I just wanted to apologize how I was acting about Gran, by the way. We all used to be friends, but he just abandoned us, and I couldn’t stand thinking if he did that to you, with your puppy dog eyes.” 

Enjolras felt himself get mad, angry even. Everyone always makes decisions for him, can’t he have one of his OWN decisions for once? 

“Well that’s my decision to make isn’t it? I can decide who is allowed to hurt me?” 

“Whoa Enj calm down... I was just worried about you?” 

“Well don’t.” Enjolras snaps, heading for the track, effectively ending the conversation. He shouldn’t have done that. 

But the poor boy has his brain fighting against him. 

———— 

Practice goes quickly, Enjolras does not. Finally, with ten minutes left, Coach Valjean sets his clipboard down and sends the boys home early. 

As usual, Enjolras just puts his headphones in and pounds his feet against the asphalt. Round and round, passing the line so many times he lost count. He thinks this is his tenth lap, he finally comes to a stop as the sun turns the sky into an orange and pink sunset. 

He stops and looks around, noting that he doesn’t see anyone and just screams. 

He just lets it all out, and screams. From his stomach, from the pit of his soul he just lets it out. Guttural and hard, he’s almost doubled over from screaming. After a few seconds, he stops, and can’t deny that he does feel better. 

He just takes a deep breath and sits on the bench on the side of the track, unlacing his old track shoes. His feet fucking hurt, maybe he over did it in old shoes but he needed to get it all out. 

He walks back to the locker room, socks getting dirty from the sidewalk but he doesn’t care. 

After a quick shower, changing into his sweatpants, a hoodie that Combeferre’s mom made for the team— a navy blue pullover hoodie that says saint Michele track on the front, then his name and jersey number on the back, it’s also ridiculously soft and makes Enjolras happy— and clean socks in his crocs, Enjolras is on his was out of the locker room. He knows how stupid he looks, and he doesn’t care it’s comfortable and he needs a little comfort right now. 

As he approaches his car, he sees a girl sitting on the hood. As he gets closer, he sees its Cosette. Her soft pink dress is spread out where she sits on the hood, and her long blonde hair falls around her shoulders. She waits for her dad to leave work, and surprisingly Enjolras leaves before Valjean today. Shes smiling as she looks down at his white crocs, stifling a laugh. 

“They’re comfortable!” Enjolras defends as he smiles and sits next to her on the hood of his car. 

“I’m not judging, I’ve just never seen you so relaxed? Comfy looking?” She says laughing softly, her voice soft and twinkling. “What’s going on Enjie?” 

He laughs at the stupid nickname Cosette has called him since they became friends last year. Something about Cosette makes you want to tell her what’s wrong, confess every sin to her, but know she’ll never judge the sin you divulge to her. 

“Oh god Cosette, it’s probably easier to list what’s not going on.” 

She just sits patiently, waiting. 

“Where do I even start? Well, let’s start with I’m gay. Just put that out there. No one knows except Courf, Ferre and Jehan. It’s not even a secret—“ 

Enjolras stops to consider the last line. 

“That’s not true, it is a secret. I like to lie to myself and say that I’m open with my sexuality but I’m not. I’m not. I denied it to Dr. Lafayette, I deny it to myself all the time— then I look at him and there’s no denying,” Enjolras sighs, raking his hand through his still damp curls. 

“And then, because I need MORE problems in my life, I feel like a visitor in my own body. I feel like its not mine and I just occupy it. Sometimes I wish I was a completely different person, I wish I didn’t have to be so masculine, I wish I could just be me. I wish I could wake up one day and just— and just be me. Be how I feel? Like—“ 

Enjolras can feel his stomach flipping. Why is he saying all of this? Why can’t he shut up? Just shut up Enj, just shut up! 

Before he realizes, his hands are shaking as he rubs them against the smooth fibers of his sweatpants. 

“Enjie just breathe with me, it’s okay.” He follows Cosette as she takes a deep breath, holds it and lets it out. 

Enjolras just nods. “I don’t like being a man. A boy? A male? I don’t know.” 

Cosette nods, rubbing his arm trying to keep him calm. 

“Okay, so what do you want to be?” 

Enjolras stops to consider. No one ever asks what he wants; wants to be, wants to do. It’s a nice change, shocking, but nice. 

“I— I want to be me. Myself. Some days masculine, some days feminine. Some days both. some days neither. Like Jehan.” 

Cosette just nods. “like Jehan, so non-binary?” 

Enjolras nods right back, shame burning his face for some reason he can’t even tell. There’s nothing to feel shameful about 

“What about pronouns? Like. ‘Enjolras looks so good today! They should wear that color more often.’ Hmm? Or or! ‘Oh wow, Enjolras should braid their hair more often, they look ethereal.” Cosette says, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

The swell in Enjolras’ chest is not to be ignored. _they_ feel awake for the first time in a long time, they feel real. 

They don’t even answer. Enjolras just gets up, and pulls Cosette into a tight hug. She just laughs and hugs him back. 

“So I guess you like the pronouns.” 

Enjolras returns with a watery laugh, ignoring the tears pooling in their eyes. 

—————  
Wednesday morning Enjolras feels relief they haven’t felt in a long time. Like fifty pounds have been removed from their shoulders. They get up, shower and get dressed, heading out for the day. 

Of course they aren’t getting away scot free. Their mother sits at the kitchen table again, waiting. 

“Where are you going?” 

Enjolras sighs and runs a hand through _his_ hair. He’ll never be able to present as he wants here. As long as _shes_ here, he always will have to be _him, not them_

“I’m going to pick up a friend for school.” 

She studies him up and down, practically a scowl on her face. 

“What friend? Where? Why do they need a ride?” 

He just sighs, “his name is R, he lives in belle manor, and he doesn’t need a ride, it’s just nice not to be so alone.” He snaps at her as he collects his keys. 

the last was definitely a stab at her, and he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Get out.” 

So he does. 

———— 

Something about riding with the windows down is so freeing to _them_. 

The wind through their hair, the music playing loud, they love it. 

Of course when they pull up to Grantaire’s house, their hair is poking out in all random directions. They quickly braid it, a soft braid resting on their shoulder. 

Philip and Madeline answer the door, Philip looking guilty. 

“I’m sorry I stole your shoe, I just thought it was funny.” 

Enjolras laughs and ruffles the small boys hair. 

“It’s okay, I have extra shoes. I thought it was funny too.” 

Madeline looks him up and down, a questioning look on her face. “You seem different.” 

Enjolras freezes. 

“I like your hair this way.” She says as she reaches up to touch the braid. 

“Uncle R has a black eye.” Philip says as the duo pull him into the house. 

“And how did that happen?” Enjolras asks, curiosity buzzing in their words. 

“He was playing hockey without his helmet AGAIN.” Grantaire’s sister, marceline supplies from the kitchen, where she stands in her pajamas as she cooks breakfast, a vastly different look from yesterday. Her hair is in a tight bun on the top of her head, curls subdued. Her makeup less face is still beautiful, skin as smooth as if she had a full face of makeup on. 

The twins push him onto a chair at the table, and hand him a plate. 

“We were in the hospital pretty late, He got up late, enjoy breakfast.” Marceline says as she puts a plate of pancakes down in the middle of the table as the kids start digging in. 

“Is he okay?” 

Marceline eyes him for a minute, analyzing him. 

“Yeah he’s fine, he was horsing around at practice and didn’t have his helmet on, so he got a stick to the face. It happens a lot but he’d be okay if he wore his helmet more. Why?” 

Enjolras just stares at her for a minute. “Well because he’s my friend and I wanted to make sure he’s okay.” 

She nods, accepting his answer and sits down next to him at the table. A few chats later, some pancakes and syrup gone, Gran emerges from the steps in his usual hoodie, ripped up jeans, and socked feet with boots in hand. Enjolras notes the purple bruise blossoming across his eye, cheek and nose. Holy shit. 

Enjolras doesn’t realize he said that last part out loud. 

“It’s not the worst, I promise I’ve had worse.” R replies with a laugh, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. 

“Yeah! Like the time you broke a tooth.” Philip supplies 

“Or when you broke your ankle.” Madeline adds 

“Or the three x rays of your neck when you slid into the wall trying to stop a goal?” Marceline quips as she sips her coffee 

“What the fuck kind of sport is this!?” Enjolras says waving his arms sporadically. 

“Oh come on Apollo, like there’s no injuries in track.” Grantaire says as he drinks the orange juice out of the jug, causing Marceline to groan. 

“I mean, yeah. A sprained ankle maybe? I kid did break his hip doing pole vaults at my last school...” Enjolras thinks out loud. 

———— 

Breakfast finished, Marceline dressed, as did Philip and Madeline, and they all left, calling back goodbyes and ‘love you’s Back to Grantaire. 

Grantaire stared at his glass of orange juice, contemplating. 

Enjolras should tell him. Tell him about their pronouns, 

Tell him that they use they/them or he/him but prefers they/them. Right? 

Right. 

But what if Grantaire doesn’t like that? What if he thinks being non-binary is fake. 

They’ve seen the shit Jehan deals with. Though, Jehan deals with it with pride. 

Enjolras is not prideful. 

Grantaire pulls him from his thoughts 

“Do you want to skip school today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos much appreciated ilysm thanks for reading. 
> 
> Follow me on tumble @yosoytriste thanks ily
> 
> (Also, as a they/them enby person, I’m kinda doing enjolras’ pronouns to be like (he) with people he isn’t out with and (they) with people who they are out with/themselves/people they want to be out with) (this is the life I live as someone who can’t be fully out teehee self insert)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, 
> 
> Skip school, Star Wars, new player enters the game, ot3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens, Bon appetite

“I’ve never skipped school.” 

Grantaire nods, wiping the condensation off his glass with his finger. “I can tell.” 

“Okay... let’s go. I have a place.” 

Grantaire smiles and pulls his boots on, following Enjolras out. 

They just drive, blasting music, singing and laughing, the windows are open again and Enjolras’ hair is doing in every direction, the wind whipping it back and forth as they sing. 

At some point, they feel Grantaire staring at them. They glance at him, a small smile dancing on Grantaire’s face as he stairs. Enjolras just blushes and shies away from singing SO loudly. 

They drive out to the beach, the lots are all empty, and no tourists there due to the end of the season. The cool fall day of September emptying the beach, and the grey clouds crowding the sky, warning of rain. 

Enjolras shuffes through the trash in his trunk, eventually finding an old throw blanket. The two walk next to each other down the boardwalk onto the soft sand, just chatting and laughing at each others jokes. Grantaire helps enjolras spread out the blanket, and they sit, just chatting. They move from sitting next to each other, to laying next to each other. Enjolras is laughing as Grantaire points to a cloud formation. 

“No, no you just have to look! Squint, and it looks like a bunny.” Grantaire says through laughs as he’s pointing. 

“I don’t see it! I don’t! I see the butterfly over here.” Enjolras says as he points in the other direction, their hands knocking into each other. Enjolras glances over and sees Grantaire staring at their hands, and pulls his back shyly. 

“I have to tell you something.” 

Grantaire looks over, their foreheads almost touching. “Are you dying?” 

Enjolras feels his breath catch as he looks in Grantaire’s eyes, warm pools of brown, and of course the huge bruise spread across his face. 

“No I’m not dying.” He says with a laugh, but it’s dry, like he isn’t focused. 

Graintaure sits up on his elbow, so his face is now above Enjolras’, worry spreading across his features. 

“Grantaire, I just— “ he sighs again, fiddling with the end of his braid. Grantaire just waits patiently for him to finish. 

“I’m gay. And— I mean I don’t know if I’m still gay, because I think I’m non-binary— I’m queer? I don’t know and I prefer they/he pronouns. Yeah.” Enjolras is rigid, twisting his fingers against each other, cracking his knuckles and not making eye contact with Grantaire. 

“Why were you so scared to tell me?” Grantaire says softly, rolling over onto his stomach and resting his head on his arms, still looking at Enjolras. 

“I’m— I don’t know. The only people who know the gay thing is Courf, Ferre and Jehan. The only person who knows the they/he thing is— well Cosette and you. I don’t know.” enjolras still stares at the clouds, finally seeing the bunny Grantaire pointed out earlier. Suddenly a rough hand is pushing his face towards Grantaire’s 

“Hey, hey don’t freak out. I’m crazy proud of you, and I appreciate you telling me.” 

Enjolras just stares at him for a minute, Grantaire’s calloused hand still soft against his skin. 

Grantaire glances down at Enjolras’ lips, but pulls away softly, sitting up. Enjolras mourns the loss of Grantaire’s warmth against him, but follows him to a sitting position. 

They spend a few hours on the beach, combing through the sand. Enjolras shows Grantaire how to spot sea glass, excitedly picking up any little piece he finds. 

“My father used to take me to the beach to find sea glass. He always used to say I was the best.” Enjolras says as he looks at the few pieces he’s collected, while Grantaire sifts through some sand. 

“What happened? You guys don’t come anymore?” Grantaire says, not looking up from the sand he’s sifting through. 

“Oh, he died when I was 6” 

Grantaire snaps his head up to look at Enjolras “holy shit Enj. I’m sorry.” He stands now, face to face with Enjolras who just shrugs 

“You didn’t know, it’s okay.” 

After a few beats of comfortable silence, Grantaire clears his throat. 

“Do you want to get out of here? We could head back to my place and watch movies?” 

Enjolras smiles and nods, collecting the blanket from the ground. 

————— 

The pair end up walking back to his car, but Grantaire stops in his tracks along the sandy sidewalk of the tired beach town. 

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asks as Graintaire reads a faded chalk-menu board of the seaside shop in front of him. 

“Let’s get ice cream.” 

Enjolras rolls his eyes and stands next to the man, reading the board along with him. The Ice-cream shop has its usual flavors, chocolate and vanilla, but then they have a daily special, that particular flavor is only available once a month. 

Today’s flavor is Caramel Chocolate peanut butter cup. 

“Usually I’d say no because it’s September and absolutely freezing today— but it just so happens their special is my three favorite things.” Enjolras says as he pulls the door open and motions for Grantaire to step inside. 

The shop is warm and inviting, the older woman at the counter smiles brightly at them as the enter. 

“Welcome to Whits! What can I get you boys today?” 

Grantaire speaks up first, his charming smile practically blinding Enjolras, “hello ma’am, we’ll take two scoops of the daily special.” 

“Who scoops in one cup with two spoons.” 

The woman chuckles lightly and begins scooping, and Enjolras can feel his face absolutely burning. 

The woman hands Grantaire the paper bowl of ice cream, and after several minutes of both the boys arguing who will pay, she just waves her hand and lets them take the ice cream for free. 

They heavily tip her. 

The pair sit on a bench, Grantaire holding the ice cream between the two of them as they eat it in silence. At some point Grantaire stopped eating and just watched Enjolras. His soft curls bouncing in the wind, as he looks around at the other patrons walking around the beach. 

“What are you staring at?” Enjolras says without looking back to Grantaire. 

Grantaire chokes on the analyzation, sputtering out a laugh “I was just day dreaming in your general direction, Sorry” 

Enjolras smiles and eats more of the ice cream Grantaire is still holding. 

—————

The house is still quiet as they make their way in, it’s only 11:45, the sun is still early in the sky. Grantaire kicks his boots off at the door, falling with the other shoes in the hall. Enjolras follows, kicking his vans off next to the boots.

Grantaire stops in the kitchen, grabbing the half gallon of orange juice. “Do you want anything?” 

Enjolras grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and follows Grantaire up the steps. 

He smiles at the pictures on the wall as they ascend. He stops midway on the steps to a family picture, two older people, a kid Grantaire, and a teen Marceline. It seems to be the only picture of Grantaire younger than 14 years old. 

He’s just a kid, not older than 5. He has a bandaid on his chin, a big toothy grin, but it’s forced. The anxiety in his eyes is clear. His hair is thick and curly, just like it’s always been. A strong hand rests on one shoulder, and a dainty female one applies more pressure to his other shoulder. He looks up to see an older man, face donning a black moustache and mutton chops coming down from his black curly hair, a matching mop of curls like Grantaire and Marceline, but the mans hair is neater, more refined, dignified. 

Enjolras’ eyes flit to the woman. Her hair is straight and black, her piercing green eyes almost jumping out of the frame. She is thin, and looks cold. Something about her expression reminds Enjolras of his own mother, he hates it. 

“Yep that’s the ole’ tribe.” Grantaire says, meeting him back in the middle of the staircase. 

“this is the only picture I’ve seen of them, and the only picture of you as a kid.” 

Grantaire considers, thinking of how to continue. “They’re... not around.” He nods, ducking his head to rub his neck. “It’s a long story, I really don’t want to get into. They just— aren’t around. They’re not dead, just not here.” 

Enjolras nods, placing a hand tentatively on the other boys shoulder. “That’s enough for me. So what movie?” He says as they continue ascending the stairs. 

————— 

Grantaire’s room was surprisingly clean, as rude as that sounds, Enjolras just imagined his room being a messy teenage boys room. 

There’s two tall white bookshelves full of books, dark grey walls. His bed is actually made semi neatly, dark grey comforter with white outlines of leaves on it. His hockey equipment is haphazardly thrown in the corner. Grantaire throws himself onto the bed, quickly sitting cross legged, leaving room for Enjolras to join him. 

He just smiles and joins Grantaire on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest as he leans on the wall behind the bed. 

“I’m going to force you to watch Star Wars.” Grantaire says as he opens disney+ on the tv. 

“You know I could just leave?” 

“You won’t.” 

——————

Two movies in, Enjolras fell asleep leaning on Grantaire’s arm. Grantaire eventually shifted and moved, softly shifting the other teen as well, so Enjolras was leaning his head on Grantaire’s leg as he snored softly. 

Grantaire is intensely watching Star Wars as his favorite scene happens in front of him 

_“It’s over Anakin, I have the high ground!” Obi-wan yelled to Anakin._

_“You underestimate my power.” Anakin replies._

Enjolras’ phone starts to buzz against the bed, small vibrations traveling through the mattress. Grantaire softly nudges Enjolras until he stirs awake from the mix of vibrations for his phone and Grantaire prodding him. 

“Whaaaaaaaaat?” Enjolras grumbles from his sleep state. 

“Your phone is ringing off the hook you dork.” 

Enjolras pushes himself up, pulling his cellphone out of the pocket of his hoodie, answering quickly. 

“Enj where are you?! Valjean is gonna flip his lid if you don’t get to practice.” courfeyrac practically yells through the receiver 

“I’m coming I’m coming.” Enjolras waves his hand, hanging up and then rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Feeling bold, he asks 

“Do you want to come to my practice?” 

————

Enjolras changed at Grantaire’s, and the set headed to the track. 

As they walked down, Grantaire dropping himself onto the metal bench next to the track, boots clanging as he propped his legs up, sunglasses hiding his eyes but a smirk playing on his lips as he watches Enjolras head to the asphalt in his running shorts and sneakers, a Saint Michele hoodie in under his track jersey. 

He watches as valjean walks onto the track with a new runner in tow. 

It’s a girl, her dark brown skin is beautiful, spreading across her body. White patches of skin spread across her face and hands. She’s in leggings, a long sleeved St. Michele navy t-shirt and a matching navy sports hijab around her head. 

Valjean blows the whistle, and the other students jog in to meet him. 

“We have a new runner, everyone meet Musichetta. she will be running relay and the 400m hurdles with Enjolras.” He says nodding to the group. 

Jehan, courf, Ferre and Enj nod back, Marius looks confused. Bossuet just stares at her, slack jawed as she stands next to Valjean. 

Marius raises his hand, and valjean sighs, “yes, Marius?” 

“Now— I don’t mean to be rude— I really don’t but, and it’s not that we’re all MEN and I don’t know how you identify but we’re all AMAB, and—“ Marius stammers around his words as the group begins to chuckle at him. Musichetta crosses her arms, waiting for him to finish 

“I’m just! I’m just saying can you keep up with us? Especially Enjolras in the 400 hurdles... that’s a lot for a girl.” 

The rest of the team scoffs and rolls their eyes, a few ‘are you serious’ and ‘come on ‘rus!’ Escape the crowd. 

Musichetta rolls her eyes, and dusts off something on her arm. 

“Then set the hurdles up, I’ll race any one of you and show you I belong on this team.” She says confidently. 

“Oh I like her.” Boss says with a snicker as he pushes Marius towards the track to set up the hurdles. 

———————

Grantaire studies Enjolras. His hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and his skin glows warm in the chilly September sun as he chats with the new runner, Musichetta. It makes Grantaire’s stomach flip to see Enjolras in his glory, he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. 

He thinks of Enjolras’ smile on the beach this morning. 

He thinks of their soft curls getting tousled in the wind. 

He thinks of them sleeping, face soft with exhaustion, and peaceful. 

“Oh hello there, Taire.” Cosettes melodic voice cuts through his thoughts as she sits next to him on the bench, laughing at her own rhyme of his name.   
“Fancy meeting you here.” She says as Marius runs over, pecks her cheek and runs off again to finish setting up the hurdles. 

Grantaire shrugs and smiles, lulling his head towards her 

“Oh hello there, Cosette. Just thought I’d come check out the local talent, you know school spirit and all that.” 

Cosette smiles and pats his leg that’s propped up on the bench with her hand. 

“Oh yes, school spirit. I noticed that you as well as the captain of the track team weren’t here today. It’s unlike him to miss school.” She snorts “you on the other hand, I can believe you missed, but what I’m having a problem piercing together, is if you two were together.” 

Gran laughs as she concludes her sleuth skill show out, kicking her softly with the bottom of his boot. 

“Yes yes, fine Cosette Fauchelevent, your special agent skills have caught me again. And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids.” 

She laughs at his scooby doo reference, pushing his leg down to scoot closer to him, waiting for the story to start. 

“First, I know they’re non-binary, they told me you do as well. We went to the beach and they taught me how to find sea glass. We had ice cream, movies at my  
Place— then they invited me to come to track practice.” 

Cosette practically beams as the story progresses. 

“So it was a date day?” 

Grantaire sighs, playing with the fray in the hole of his jeans, staring off into space 

“It wasn’t a date. People like them don’t go out with guys like me you know? They’re the captain of the track team, fast track accepted to almost any Ivy League school, and I’ve got nothing.” 

He doesn’t dare look at Cosette. He’s been working with Javert since he was a kid, therefore has know Cosette since she was a kid. 

And Cosette has known his self deprecating attitude since his first day on the ice in 4th grade. 

Before freshman year and his parents and all the shit that happened, Cosette was his closest friend. His best friend. 

And he knows, if he looks up, the same angry, scrunched nose face will be looking at him, the same way it’s been since they were young. 

“Taire.” 

He sighs and looks over to her, and of course, the angry face awaits him. 

Her blonde brows are furrowed, almost meeting in the middle. Her nose is scrunched slightly, and her eyes are serious, a big change for Cosette. 

“You know that’s not true. Why are they any better than you? You’re the captain of the hockey team for the town, you already have scholarship offers from Ivy League schools for hockey, and a TON of other schools for your art. You’re an amazing person, Grantaire. Someday you’re going to listen to me.” 

Grantaire just nods, patting her knee softly and turning back to watch what he can only imagine will be a smack down from Musichetta to whomever she races. 

“Well, as the challenger, Musichetta why don’t you pick who you want to race.” Valjean says, waving to the team in front of her. 

“Well, Marius seems to think I can’t keep up with Enjolras on the hurdles. Lets just see that.” 

Hoots and hollers come from the rest of the team and Enjolras shrugs and smiles, taking down his messy bun and re-doing it, then high-fiving Musichetta as they walk onto the track together. 

Valjean blows the whistle as Combeferre hits the stop watch and the two are off, running towards the first hurdle. Musichetta breezes over like the wind, quick and confident, toe to toe with Enjolras. 

Where he begins to sweat, she seems as if this is just an afternoon jog. 

Where he begins to falter and fall behind, she continues, just seconds ahead of him. 

She advances past him over the finish line, barely breathing heavily, where enjolras pants softly. 

“Time?” She asks turning to Ferre, who is gaping at her, then Enjolras, then her again. 

“Uh— 62 seconds for Musichetta, 63.7 for Enjolras.” He says looking down at the stop watch. 

Cheers erupt from the team, all rushing to congratulate her and pat her back, especially Enjolras. 

“You’re a beast, Chetta! Finally, some competition on this team.” Enjolras adds with a laugh as he high fives her again. 

Marius begins profusely apologizing and practically kissing at her feet as she laughs and pats his back, confirming that it’s fine. 

Practice comes and goes, as they’re packing up, bossuet steps up, face to face with the intimidating girl he has quickly felt a crush develop for. 

He realises he’s been staring at her, specifically the small white spot on her cheek that looks like a heart, right before her hijab starts and covers the rest of the spots. 

She looks angry. 

“Oh— oh sorry. Hi, hi I’m Bossuet. Or boss. Or lesgles... but no one really calls me that.” He stutters through, as she continues to watch him with a cautious eye while she packs her backpack up. 

“A—anyway— so on Friday we have a track party to celebrate the run from Friday morning depending how good or bad we did it’s either a good or bad party you know—“ he breaks up his rambling with a laugh. “And yeah you’re on the track team now so I wanted to invite you to the track team party after the track team meet if you wanted—“ 

She puts a hand up to stop him, her eyes softening quickly, crinkling at the edges. He notices a clump of her eyelashes are white as well. 

“I’d love to go, thank you for telling me, B” she walks away and he feels himself stupidly smiling at the new nickname to add to his running list. 

**Boss:** you know how we were talking about the possibility of finding a third person? 

**Jollllly:** yeah? Who do you have in mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musichetta, Musichetta, Musichetta. My Queen, my girl, 
> 
> She is Muslim, and has vitiligo here, what can I say? 
> 
> Please comment/kudo/share!!!! My tumblr is @yosoytriste come hang out


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disappointed, breakfast, lunch, art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for abusive parenting, and sllllight transphobic words at the very end of the chapter.

Enjolras made it home relatively early after practice.

He stayed and chatted with the new runner, Musichetta. He was endlessly amazed with her racing and times the whole practice, and she was so sweet to talk to, able to laugh and joke right along with the rest of the guys. 

He showered, and changed into his usual after practice garb-- white crocs, socks and his sweatpants. He gave Grantaire a ride home (who only ridiculed him about his crocs for twenty minutes), the duo singing along to the terrible top 40 radio pumping out of the speakers in Enjolras’ beat up old Honda Civic. Grantaire gets out, smiling and waving, calling a ‘see you tomorrow’ to the car as it drives away. 

Enjolras should know that something is wrong, when his mother’s car is in the driveway at 4pm. 

She is never home at this time, she usually is home by 6:30 PM and then by 7:25 PM she is out and on her way to dinner with someone; a co-worker, a friend, Enjolras doesn’t care-- it get her out of his hair and some quiet time at home. 

Enjorlas should know that something is wrong, when he opens the door and the house is suspiciously quiet. No TV, no radio, nor his mothers neatly manicured nails clacking away on the keyboard of her computer. 

He kicks his crocs off in front of the door and walks through the kitchen, heading to the stairs quickly--

“Where were you today?” his mothers icy voice cuts through the silence of the house like a knife. 

Enjolras turns on his heel and sees her sitting at the kitchen table, waiting. 

“What?” Enjolras asks, acting confused. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Julien. Where were you today? The school called. You missed every class today.” She says, anger tinging her words.

“I--” 

She stands up, instantly in his face, inches away, though he has to look down to meet her eyes. “Where. were. You.” 

He takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking, but just shoves them in his hoodie pocket. “I was out with a friend. I went out with a friend for the day.” 

She stares at him, eyes burning with anger. “What friend? This one you’ve been leaving early to see? What is their name?”   
He swallows, looking away from her-- at the fridge, at the ceiling, anything. 

“Their name, Julien!” 

He sighs and looks at her again-- “His name is Grantaire.” 

She crosses her arms, nodding. It’s a sarcastic nod, the anger is still burning into Enjolras’ skin as he waits for the hammer to come down, for her to seal her anger with a punishment, as usual. 

“I want your phone, I want your laptop, any schoolwork that has to be done with it will be in the kitchen where I can watch you use the computer.” he nods, accepting. 

“I don’t know where all this disobedience is coming from but you are not to see him-- this Grantaire” Enjolras hates the way she spits his name, Grantaire’s name should never be said with such disdain, it’s too beautiful to be used in vain like that. “You will not see him again. You will leave this house at 7:25 so you have just enough time to make it to school. Do not talk to him in the halls, don’t talk to him in class, and that is final.” His mother says as she heads to the steps. 

Enjolras stands there, stuck in his spot. He can't do that, he can't just not be with Grantaire, think of Grantaire, and now all of a sudden ignore Grantaire. Somewhere in his soul, in the pit of his chest there’s a spark, something in him that tells him to stand his ground. He swings around to follow his mother, standing at the foot of the stairs as she descends and speaks up. 

“You can’t do this, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

His mother stops mid step on the stairs, turning slowly. “What did you say to me?” 

All of Enjolras’ courage quickly drains out of his body, his blood running cold and leaving his face. 

“I-- I.. You can’t control every aspect of my life.-- you-- let me be a kid, a teenager, my own damn person!” 

His outburst earns him a smack swiftly across the face, his head snaps back following the smack. During his speech she descended the stairs and came face to face with him. He just clutches his cheek and looks back to her, eyes wide like a deer and in headlights, tears burning in his eyes automatically at the sting on his cheek, and the emotions of his mother smacking him. 

She grabs his face, turning it back to face her. “Stop crying, Man up. Give me your phone, now.” 

He just nods, digging it out of his pocket and puts it in her waiting outstretched hand. She looks down and is met with the background picture being Grantaire, his hair tousled and sunglasses over his eyes as he holds up the first piece of seaglass he found today. Enjolras couldn't help but smile and snap the picture as it happened, and Grantaire dared him to make it his background-- Jokes on Grantaire though, Enjolras was going to do it anyway. 

His breath hitches in his chest as his mother unlocks his phone, swiping through random things, before clicking it off and pocketing it. 

Through the night, she continues to make him miserable. She collects his laptop next, takes his keys and will put them on the table in the morning when it's time for him to leave, which will be 7:25 on the dot, leaving him only 25 minutes to get to school, which is 10 minutes away. How kind of her to give him 15 minutes to account for traffic, car problems, time to go to his locker and maybe make it to class on time. such a giver, that woman. 

By midnight, she made her point in yelling, and disappointed looks, and took herself to bed.

Enjolras returned to his room, where he could finally let it out, all the weight from the night, the yelling, the smack. All of this finally breaking his back--his resolve. He sits on his bed and stares at his hands, tears burning in his eyes and then slipping down his cheeks. He gave himself a solid ten minutes to cry in the silence of his room, he wrapped himself in his comforter and sat in the middle of his carpeted floor as he cried-- well now it's time for business, he supposes. 

He listened for her to begin snoring, and that's when Enjolras’ plan springs into action. Luckily, in the best way, Enjorlas is a hoarder. It comes in handy at times like this, when he pulls out a shoe box from the very back, dark corners of his closet, which houses an ancient iPhone 4s, and the old 7 prong charger. Its dead, but doesnt take long to power on, the familiar little white apple popping up on the screen. He quickly logs into his iCloud account and adds his contacts to this phone, it only works connected to wifi but that’s good enough for now. 

**jenjolras@gmail.com:** long story, but uh tomorrow you have to be outside, ready to go at 7:32 

**Grantaire:** This reads as the worst kidnapping ploy ever. 

**Grantaire:** I’m assuming this is Enj, or someone named Jen Jolras, who i dont know. 

**Grantaire:** Why are you messaging from your email? 

**jenjolras@gmail.com:** its a long story for tomorrow because tonight has been a shitshow. But you just have to be ready, like im just gonna slow the car down and you jump in. 

\------------------

Enjolras didn’t sleep much that night, then woke up late. His hair was tucked into a beanie, and his glasses on today-- entirely too tired for contacts, and his eyes are dry from crying. 

As promised, His mother left the keys on the counter promptly at 7:25, and Enjolras pulls up at Grantaire’s home by 7:32, when he sees Grantaire standing at the edge of his driveway, a plate wrapped in aluminum foil. 

He quickly gets in the car and turns to Enjolras smiling-- which quickly fades when he sees the state of enjolras. 

Enjolras notes to himself that Grantaire’s bruise from yesterday spreading across his cheek already looks better, the purple edges starting to fade to yellow. 

“Enj? What's going on? No offense, you look like shit.” Grantaire says, concern lacing his voice. Enjolras forces a smile and shrugs. 

“It's a long story. I’m fine.” Enjolras finally decides on. Which Grantaire does not accept. 

“No come on spill, I know something is up. You didn't sleep, did you?” 

Enjolras pulls into the parking lot and surprisingly he has ten minutes before the bell rings, so great, he can spill his guts, he guesses. He’ll just have to not stop at his locker. 

Enjolras sighs and rubs his eyes under his glasses and turns to Grantaire. 

“My mom found out I skipped school.”

Grantaire nods, waiting for the rest of the explanation as to why Enjolras seems as if he went through the wringer. 

“She uh-- she's not, a bad woman you know? She's not, she's just misguided. I got in trouble, she wants the best for me you know? I shouldn't have skipped school yesterday. She took my phone, smacked me, and then told me I can't see you anymore.” 

Grantaire stares at him incredulously, as if he had three heads. “You can’t see me anymore?” 

Then, of course, Grantaire remembered the other things listed— “she fucking hit you!? Enjolras that— that is not okay what the fuck—“ 

Enjolras sighs and puts a hand on Grantaire’s knee, stilling him from his frenzied speaking “Taire, it’s not that big of a deal, please. It was just a tap.” 

Grantaire does not look convinced, anger burning in his eyes, but Enjolras continues.

“She has controlled every aspect of my life since my dad died. She's decided my friends, my classes, my hobbies. She asked why I missed school yesterday and I told her I went out with a friend and she asked who so I said you--” 

He takes a deep breath 

“So she said I can't see you anymore.”

Grantaire nods, fiddling with the aluminum foil in his hands. “But you picked me up anyway?” 

Enjolras nods, wiping off his glasses on the sleeve of his saint michele track hoodie. “At some point I have to grow up and stop letting her control me.” 

“So thats what shes mad about? You stopped letting her control you.” 

Enjolras shakes his head. “No-- no she's disappointed in me for missing school, which she has every right to--”

Grantaire stops him, putting a hand up. “no--no Enj. She does not have every right to be mad at you— you deserve a day off. You deserve to have friends that you choose, and you especially do not deserve to have hands put on you for being a kid. Don’t you see that?” 

Enjolras stares at him for a minute, unsure what to believe at this point. 

“She has been controlling you so long, and Enjolras, you don’t deserve that. You deserve to make your own decisions and your own mistakes.” 

He nods in response, words lost to him right now. Grantaire is right, But how can he escape? How can Enjolras separate from his mother and all the work she’s put into his life? 

He misses his father. 

Grantaire clears his throat— “uh, Marceline made enough breakfast for you because she said you like her juevos rancheros and you’re too skinny.” He says handing the aluminum wrapped plate to Enjolras who just smiles. 

Marceline's breakfast is the first home cooked meal he’s had made for him in a long time. His mom doesn’t cook, and he can cook, like two things? 

Protein pancakes or pasta. 

So Marceline's breakfast is a welcome change. 

Enjolras wolfs down the eggs and the duo walks to Grantaire’s first class of the day, a comfortable silence between them. 

Grantaire hesitates at the door, and turns back to Enjolras. 

“You know, if you need to— y’know, stop talking to me if you need? I don’t want to be the reason you’re miserable, or the reason she hurts you.” 

Enjolras scoffs “as if you could get rid of me so easily.” 

Grantaire smiles and walks in the classroom, satisfied with his answer. 

And that’s the truth, really. Enjolras couldn’t imagine a life without Grantaire, he can’t imagine going back to the sad loneliness he felt just a few short weeks ago. 

Because that would truly be miserable. 

———————

The day continued on normally, Enjolras feeling the defiance burn through his veins as he ate lunch with Grantaire, Eponine and Jehan as usual. Today Combeferre joined them in the grass instantly laughing and joking with Grantaire as if they have been lifelong friends. 

It makes Enjolras’ heart swell, watching the two laugh, throwing cheezits into each other’s mouths and missing— causing them to double over and laugh even more. But there’s a dark voice in the back of Enjolras’ brain, one that picks at him and mocks him 

_all this pining, all this longing— he doesn’t like you, he probably doesn’t even like you as a friend! Don’t you get that? You just weaseled yourself in his life and he hates you._

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Grantaire who’s shaking his knee softly. The rest of the group is standing around him as other students filter into buildings around them. 

He just gets up without a word, walking to building 3. 

Grantaire turns to Combeferre, who shrugs. 

“Listen, I’m sure you know what happened with his mom— she just gets in his head. Give him some time.” 

——————

Enjolras’ final, and favorite class of the day finally approaches. Art 1, where he can continue working on his self portrait— 

Which isn’t a self portrait at all, but a collage of all the things that make him— him. He is quite proud of it, and thinks Lafayette will also appreciate it. 

He sits at his table, the three usual girls surrounding him and raining complements down on him— 

‘Oh Enjolras, you’re so handsome.’ _god, he hates that word._

‘Oh Enjolras, you are probably so sweet to your girlfriend.’ _god, he wishes he could come out._

‘Oh Enjolras you’re the only real man at this school, so chivalrous and kind.’ _god, he wishes he’d stop being misgendered, but what right do you have to want that? You aren’t out, you present masc, you don’t have a right to wish that._

“Ladies in the front! If you don’t return to your seat I am docking your daily grade by 50 points!” Lafayette calls from his desk, and thankfully the girls disperse and Enjolras feels like he can breathe. 

Grantaire goes to head over to his table, but a knock at the door interrupts him. 

The assistant principal walks in, Musichetta following behind him, he chats with Lafayette for a moment, then leaves, Lafayette clears his throat for the class to look up—

“Fellow artists, we have a new friend joining our ranks, please, introduce yourself sweetheart.” 

Musichetta smiles and adjusts her scarf. Enjolras notes that it’s a beautiful deep purple, with small pink roses and vines spread across it. She looks very different out of track practice. She’s in a matching baby pink sweater, and jeans, all the way down to purple toms. A very nicely coordinated outfit, he thinks to himself. 

“Hello, I’m Musichetta, you can call me Chetta, I moved here from Montfermeil, and I’m on the track team.” 

One of the girls who fawns over Enjolras speaks up first— Amelie is her name, enjolras finally remembers. 

“Uh, our track team is boys only. So are you—“ Amelie is cut off by Enjolras before she can even finish her question

“First of all, she doesn’t have to tell you anything. I will tell you we are not a boys team, we’re a co-op team to be gender inclusive to all the runners.” 

Amelie rolls her eyes, turning to face him. “Enjie, please. You’re not a co-op just because you say you are. There’s only boys on your team.” 

“No, we have non-binary and gender non conforming people on the team.” 

“Still boys.” The other girl— Camille adds with a scoff and a roll of her eyes as well.

Lafayette slams his hands down on his desk “that is ENOUGH. Camille and Amelie, to the office.” 

A chorus of ‘buts!’ And ‘Lafayette no!’ Arise, but he silences them, sending them on their way. 

Musichetta takes the seat next to Enjolras and smiles to him softly, which he smiles back, not even forced— just genuine. 

He enjoys the comfortable silence from her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I love comments, feel free to drop one below, or follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yosoytriste)


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